


Is This the Real Life, Or Is This Just Fantasy?

by Lhugy_for_short



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blow Jobs, Brotherhood, Gladio has the thighs of a god, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Prompto being thirsty af 24/7, Prompto wants to be between them, Some dreams really can come true
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 17:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16815172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: Prompto's dreamed about Gladio's thighs almost every night since they first met. Those glorious, muscular, watermelon-crushing thighs that must have been sculpted by the gods themselves. He's seen them so often in his fantasies that when therealGladio shows up at his door, offering a taste of that which he's only ever imagined, Prompto can't be sure he's not still dreaming.





	Is This the Real Life, Or Is This Just Fantasy?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littlecakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecakes/gifts).



> Or in other words, what would happen in that one scene from Brotherhood if Gladio had shown up to the arcade in short-shorts? RIP Prompto's dignity.  
> This whole thing started as a thirst-fest on an amazing Promptio Discord I recently joined. Good people, good smut. The original concept was Prompto wanting to fuck Gladio's thighs, and I hope I've done that enough justice here. 
> 
> (Also Prom is 18, 'cause I say so)

Prompto knows he isn’t the smoothest dude in the world. He’s had his fair share of bumbling fumbles in life - like once when he spilled coffee all over the barista he was trying to flirt with, or the time he ended up totally sunburned attempting to pick up guys at the beach. Oh, yeah, he’ll be the first to admit he’s got very little self-control when presented with a hot body and a pair of gorgeous eyes.

But this? This is a new low even for him. He’d like to think he’s above staring at the guy walking toward them. Like, outright, not-even-a-little-subtle staring. Probably obvious as fuck, and yet while he’s aware he’s doing it, Prompto still can’t force himself to look away. It’s like his brain - the one between his legs, of course - has taken over completely, making him bear witness to his own embarrassingly evident thirst. 

But  _ gods,  _ who can really blame him? The guy is perfect, looks like some sculpted model right out of the pages of the fitness mags Prompto sometimes jerks off to, and  _ yeah, _ his thighs are probably as big around as Prom’s own head. So thick, so solid, jutting out of the too-hot-for-these-short-shorts he’s somehow squeezed them into. As the guy walks, his Titan-esque thighs rub together and the sight of them alone  _ does things _ to the space between Prompto’s own.  _ Uncomfortable _ things, because his school uniform is way too tight to hide his boner now, and  _ he’s still fucking staring and--  _

“Hey, man.”

“‘Sup, princess. Didn’t expect to see you on my day off.” 

“Lucky you, I guess.” 

Prompto’s wide eyes go wider. ‘Thighs’ (he feels like it’s a more respectful codename than ‘Wet Dream Daddy,’ though both are equally accurate) has come to a stop, but it takes his brain - the other one, the one above his shoulders - a few heartbeats to register  _ why _ . 

Noctis is standing beside him, school bag slung like a sack over one shoulder, and out of the corner of his vision Prompto watches him reach out to fist bump Codename Thighs.  _ Fist bump _ . Like..they know each other. Like they’re  _ friends _ , and that’s kinda blowing his mind right now as much as the pair of molten-honey eyes that rove over him in turn. 

“Who’s your date?” Thighs asks in a voice that drips of sex and confidence.  _ Gods,  _ does he have any idea how unfair he is?

The prince elbows him hard enough to interrupt the start of the fantasy he’s falling into, and shrugs. “This is Prom. You know, the one I’ve been telling you and Iggy about.” 

“Oh, right.” Those eyes are still on him, and Prompto suddenly worries that Thighs can somehow read his very, very filthy thoughts. He flushes bright red and attempts to cover his lap with his school bag. “So does Blondie speak, or…?”

“Uh, duh? Course he does, you’re just intimidating him.” 

Prompto wants to open his mouth to disagree, but he’s afraid of what might come out. 

“Dude. C’mon, It’s just Gladio, stop being weird.” 

Wait...Gladio? Thighs is  _ the  _ Gladiolus Amicitia?  _ As in _ future Shield of the King and one of Noct’s oldest friends? Great.  _ Just great _ . Like his awkward boner wasn’t already awkward enough, now he’s pretty sure he’s going to get his neck snapped for his trouble. 

“U-um. I, um,” he starts, smooth as the underside of a chocobo foot. “I’m Prom. Prompto. Uh, Argentum. Prompto Argentum. Like, in that order. N-nice to see you. Meet you! A-and stuff.” 

There’s a pause, during which he can almost feel Noct’s eyebrows sliding up his forehead. His own ears are ringing, and the only sound in the space between the three of them seems to be his pounding heart. At least, that is, until Gladio’s rough voice speaks up, and drowns out literally everything else. 

“...Did you just introduce yourself to my crotch?” 

* * *

He’s dead. His life is officially over now, there’s no denying it. He was so young, so tragic, and there’s still so much he never got the chance to do. Like give his first blow job, or receive his first blow job, or even just kiss someone, which he supposes was probably asking too much anyway. 

But, as he lays on his bed clutching his phone, where Noct’s damning message still reads bright across the screen, he tries to tell himself it could have been worse. Somehow. Definitely. ...Probably. Then he rereads the text and starts groaning all over again. 

_ [20:58] Sorry dude. I kinda sorta...told Gladio you like him. Oops.  _

Nope, he was wrong. This is absolutely as bad as it gets. Noctis has literally doomed him; so much for honor between best friends. Prompto can’t even fathom  _ why _ the subject might have come up, but it’s not like thinking about it will change anything now. Not now that Gladio - fucking  _ Gladio _ ‘ _ Work-out-shirtless-cause-I-can’ Amicitia -  _ knows all about his schoolboy crush and is never going to so much as look at him again. 

Somewhere between the self-pity and betrayal, he finally manages a reply. A quick  _ why do you hate me bro _ before he’s chucking his phone to the floor and turning his face into the pillow. Gods...what now? 

His thoughts drift, as they often do when he’s alone in his bed, back to that first day he and Gladio met. Even now, so many weeks later (though it feels like a lifetime to him), Prompto can still recall the color of those shorts in startling detail. He still remembers the exact number of heartbeats it took to notice there was a  _ man _ attached to those god-like thighs, and that he was even more beautiful on the way up. 

There’s probably something seriously wrong about touching himself so soon after his own death warrant’s been signed, but then again Prompto has never been good at self-control. Especially when it comes to Gladio, whose body had been a constant in his wet dreams ever since that first day. And besides, he reasons, unzipping his pants and sliding his hand into the front, what’s he got left to lose? 

Prompto bites down on his bottom lip. The hot palm rubbing against his cock feels soft, but he imagines it bigger, more calloused. Imagines that the fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft are thicker, and squeezes them as hard as he thinks Gladio might. Moans into his pillow, blood rapidly rushing south to keep him from thinking, from worrying about what tomorrow might bring. After all, the real Gladio may never want to see him again, but the one in his fantasies is always willing to give him just what he wants. 

* * *

“What are you doing here?” 

As soon as the words leave him, Prompto is wincing in apology. The question came out meaner than he intended, but in his shock he honestly couldn’t think of anything else to say. Naturally, the last thing he expected when he opened his front door was to find none other than Gladio standing on the other side of it. Alone. Holding a small bouquet of flowers and wearing a cheesy grin. Looking, Prompto muses, like he's gotten lost on the way to pick up a date for the school dance, and somehow ended up  _ here  _ by mistake. 

“Hey, Prom,” he starts, as if this is totally normal for either of them. “I wanted to come by and say sorry for what happened last night.”

Last night? Prompto racks his brain, but all he can come up with is the shitty text message from Noct and then several hours of jerking off to the guy standing right in front of him. What in Eos does Gladio have to apologize for? 

His silence is telling, it seems, and Gladio is left shuffling on his feet to supply an explanation. “Right. Uh, Noct said you were probably ignoring him, so I guess you didn't read the full story. About that…. I was kinda the one who goaded him into talking about you.”

Prompto holds his breath. He's pretty sure it's the only way to keep his soul from leaving his body because he can’t believe what he’s just heard. 

“I kinda wanted to know if you were into dudes. And…also if maybe you were into me.”

“...Oh.” 

“Yeah.” Gladio watches him for a moment before clearing his throat. “Noct said it should have been obvious, and I guess he's right, but I didn't, um. I didn't wanna fuck this up, y’know. And. Well. I brought you flowers, if you like that kinda thing.” 

The roses - which smell fucking amazing, by the way - are pushed closer to his face and Prompto reaches out numbly to take them. His chest is tight, filled up with all the things he wants to say in that moment scrambling at the same time to get out. All the ‘ _gods is this real?’_ s and ‘ _how are you so perfect?’_ s get jammed up in his throat like a big stupid lump, even though he knows that if he doesn't say something soon he risks Gladio walking away. That's the exact opposite of what he wants, of course. Knows that because he's seen this before more times than he can count. Because almost all of his dreams start just like this - with Gladio staring down at him, that expectant spark of _something_ in his eyes. 

And so Prompto gulps, and answers the way always does in his fantasies. “Do you…wanna come inside?” 

* * *

Who would have thought it possible? Who even  _ could  _ have, outside of the Six themselves? Certainly not Prompto. Not in a million fucking years, and yet here he is, proof to himself that sometimes dreams really do come true. 

Specifically, the kind of dreams in which he's running his tongue over sculpted abs, feeling the muscles twitch and flex beneath his mouth. Or the kind where Gladio’s hard dick is pressing up against his collarbone, throbbing even through his underwear and  _ fuck  _ Prompto’s dying for a taste. But the rough fingers in his hair are urging him to take it slow, pulling him back whenever he gets too impatient or tries to rush ahead. Gladio clearly wants this to last. 

“Not gonna lie, Prom,” he grins, dragging his thumb down and across the slick flesh of kiss-bruised lips. “I’ve thought a lot about doing this with you.” 

Prompto hums, and uses the distraction to inch closer towards the hem of those briefs. “Me, too.” 

“Yeah? You think about all the places I could put my hands on your body?” 

“Mmhmm.” His own cock twitches in sympathy when the vibrations from his throat catch Gladio off-guard. “Every night.” 

There’s a low groan from above him, and the fingers clasping his hair lose some of their grip. “ _ Damn, _ Prom. That’s hot. Wish I could’ve watched.”

Prompto smiles, half at the implication and half in victory at finally reaching his prize. He can’t help but notice the way Gladio is watching him now. There’s a thrill in that, a thrill in knowing he’s on display as he rolls down the last obstacle of clothing between them and his eyes go round at the sight underneath. 

Gladio, for one, seems to enjoy the reaction. “You sure you’re up for this?” he asks, but the way his impressive dick twitches against his stomach tells a very different story. Licking his lips, Prompto dives in. 

Okay, so. He’s never  _ actually  _ sucked a cock before. Sure, he’s seen plenty of porn and has practiced more than a few times with his silicone toys, but deepthroating a dildo is turning out to be very different from the real thing. For one, Gladio is bigger around than almost anything he’s put in his mouth before. For another, he’s suddenly finding himself concerned about things like  _ teeth _ and  _ pressure _ and  _ taste _ that make the first few passes more awkward than anything. 

Thankfully, Gladio’s patient. They work through it together until Prompto’s taking him down more easily, more confidently, and building up a steady rhythm. By the time he feels Gladio sliding deep enough to reach the back of his throat, he’s relaxed enough to not even gag anymore. Instead, he moans around the weight inside his mouth, and that’s apparently all it takes. 

Maybe there’s a warning, or maybe Gladio is taken by surprise, too. His hips suddenly stutter in their gentle rocking and thrust forward, as hot cum explodes from his cock where’s it’s buried deep between Prompto’s lips. 

It’s...a first, but not one he isn’t prepared for. All the times he’s fantasized about this - imagined Gladio cumming on his tongue or across his face - help him to chose his reaction quickly. Keep him from pulling away too soon, or from spilling too much when that thick cock finally does draw back. And as he swallows, he smiles to see the flush of appreciation that blossoms crimson from Gladio’s cheeks all the way down to his chiseled chest.

“You, uh. You’re good at that.” His eyes are heavy, as is his voice when he speaks. “Fucking amazing, actually.” 

Prompto pillows his head against one massive thigh. “It was fun. Be happy to do it again sometime, big guy.” 

“Yeah. Definitely.” Though his dick is flagging now, Gladio doesn’t bother tucking it back into his briefs. Instead strokes it, holds it out for Prom to see while he milks the last of his spend from the tip. And  _ gods _ , it’s a nice trick. Prompto doesn’t even have to move, simply opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, delicious little shudders running through him as Gladio swipes up the mess with his thumb and feeds it to him like icing on a cake. 

“ _ Mm.  _ ...How about I return the favor, baby?” 

_ Baby.  _ Prompto shudders again, suddenly and undeterably aware of his own cock still hard between his legs. It sure as fuck sounds like Gladio’s offering to blow him, like something right out of his wettest, hottest dream, and  _ of course  _ he wants to say yes. But as much as he’s ready to bust at the mere thought of sticking his cock into Gladio’s mouth, there’s something even more tempting - and it’s already a whole lot closer. 

“Actually,” he ventures, and watches Gladio’s eyes widen with whatever he thinks he’s about to say. “Do you think I could, maybe, um. Y’know, on your legs?” 

“My...legs?” 

“Well, your thighs, I mean.”  _ Like that sounds any less weird?  _

But Gladio’s reaction is nothing if not totally understanding. He grins as he lets his cock fall against his stomach, and pushes himself further back in the sofa cushions. “Those really do it for you, huh? I’ll be sure to never skip leg day if you like ‘em so much.” 

“T-thanks.” Prompto’s voice hitches at the scene unfolding before him. Of all the days to leave his camera in his bag, it’s the day Gladio ‘Don’t-you-wish-your-boyfriend-was-hot-like-me’ Amicitia shows up at his house to spread for him. Like a fucking fresco painting on the ceiling of the Citadel, Prompto looks into the crack between Gladio’s muscular thighs, pressed tight together and pulled back to his chest, and sees the very words of the gods written there.  _ Insert dick here, _ the holy message seems to say, and who is he, a mere mortal, to question their gift?

So he licks his palm and slicks up his aching cock, and very shakily gets to his feet at the edge of the couch. Hugs Gladio’s legs to him as he rubs against the backs, just warming up but already it feels  _ so damn good _ . His thighs are massive, firm in places and softer in others, but mostly they’re  _ warm _ and that’s invitation enough. Slowly, savoring every inch, he guides his cock into the tight space halfway between Gladio’s knees and his ass, stopping only when he’s bottomed out completely. 

Honey-amber eyes are watching him. Gladio parts his lips, but anything he plans to say is lost in the sounds tumbling from Prompto’s own mouth. Moan after moan in absolute  _ euphoria.  _ That’s all he can feel in that moment, dick-deep between the thighs he’s worshipped all these long nights. The sensation is more overwhelming even than he’s dreamed, the friction growing so much hotter now that he’s thrusting faster, faster, chasing pleasure too divine for words. He knows he won’t last long like this, so he doesn’t try. Doesn’t fight the tension that coils in his gut or the way his toes curl in the shag of the carpet. It’s too good, too  _ perfect  _ to deny anyway. 

There are tears brimming in his eyes when he cums. His orgasm is mind-blowing, crashing over him hard and blinding and forcing the very air from his lungs in a shuddering cry. For a brief moment, Prompto thinks he might see a glimpse of the Beyond - his life force leaving his body in the aftermath of such amazing sex - but then he’s tumbling back down again to the mortal plane. 

Gladio’s legs are what catch him.  _ Fucking bless. _

The insides of the big guy’s thighs are an absolute disaster. Rubbed red, sticky with saliva and (impressive amounts of) cum, Prompto almost feels guilty once he sees the mess he’s made. But Gladio’s a good sport about it, because of course he is, and even lets Prom help clean him up - first with his tongue, then with tissues in the few spots he’s missed. 

And later, if Gladio ‘Zero-subtlety’ Amicitia happens to dawdle at the door, tying and re-tying his boots until Prompto finally blurts out that he wants him to stay, well. Even dreams-come-true can sometimes get an even better ending. 

**Author's Note:**

> :3 
> 
> It was the real life.


End file.
